


Child of Yggdrasil

by Chiauve



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (2011)
Genre: AU, Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, evil!Odin, plotbunny attack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-19
Updated: 2012-05-23
Packaged: 2017-11-05 15:02:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiauve/pseuds/Chiauve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Thor and Loki fought together, they were unstoppable. Thor was strength and nobility while Loki was intellect and ambition. More than once the brothers have been told that they completed each other, that they would be perfect if they had been one being.</p>
<p>The truth is, they once were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This plotbunny got me while my back was turned. I'm sorry.

For all their power, the Aesir were bound to Asgard. They were gods and yet they could be slain, could be overpowered by the dark that crept between and beyond the branches of Yggdrasil.

Odin, King of the Gods and most powerful, sought to rectify this.

Through ritual and union with the Earth goddess Gaea was Odin’s son born, and all of Yggdrasil rejoiced.

Were any being in all the realms capable of perfection, it was the Odinson. Like a star he shone, and Odin knew that this child was destined for power and greatness beyond even the All-Father’s imaginings. With such power came a price, for as the child grew into his destiny, so would Odin All-Father wane. One day, his own son would overcome him, take his throne and power, and outshine his father in all things.

It was then Odin knew fear.

Again he laid down the rituals and placed his newborn son upon the alter. The babe laughed, already placing trust in his father despite the strangeness, and he did not cry until he saw the blade, as though he knew what was about to happen.

Odin cleaved the babe in two, straight down the middle.

Yggdrasil wept.

When he returned to Asgard, it was with two sons under his arms, light and dark. His wife Frigga met him at the gates, and he could see in her eyes that she knew what he’d done.

“All will be well,” Odin said to her, “I split them evenly.”

“No,” Frigga reached out and touched the soft hair of the fairer child, sleeping peacefully, “The pieces may be even, but the heart lay on this side.”

“It matters not.”

Frigga knew otherwise. As Odin handed her the second, darker babe, she placed her hand upon his little chest. Indeed there was a heart there now, but it was a false one, forged of his own flesh when he’d been separated from his other half. It was made from himself, and so the boy could only ever love himself, all the while yearning for that which had been taken from him.

The first child who carried the heart would be all the stronger for it, and yet still incomplete. He too would forever be drawn to the second half, but as the stronger he would never know why and reject such urges, for the heart would give him the illusion of completion.

Odin had not erred. He’d ensure that his son now two would remain dependant upon each other without the harmony that would mean their union. The sons of his line were powerful, free to the universe and unbound by Asgard.

And they were his to control.

 

It had all nearly come undone. When Odin wished to pass on his title to Thor, the stronger of the two halves, he hadn’t expected the lengths Loki would go in retaliation.

The second half had always been too clever, but parts of the whole his sons were, and if Thor was the strength and nobility, so Loki was the intellect and the creative. Loki was always asking _why_ and _how_ , and Odin was happy to oblige with answers, for what good was power controlled if stunted?

The boy thought too much, wondered too much as he lie in his bed at night, hands clutching at his chest as if he could dig out the hurt and emptiness that plagued his artificial heart. He questioned, and Odin knew one day that question would be the one to undo all his work, and then Loki would have to be dealt with. He was becoming more unruly as the years went by anyway, harder to control.

But when the day came, it was Loki himself who lay the alternative at Odin’s feet. How fortunate that Odin’s Jotun heritage chose to manifest itself in his second son on Jotunheim, and similarly reacted to the Casket. Loki was a shape-shifter, and therefore sensitive to such things, but the boy reached an entirely different conclusion.

“The Casket wasn’t the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?”

Odin was caught off guard by the question. He nearly laughed aloud, for clever his son was so very wrong and provided his father with the perfect lie.

“No,” he said, his voice grave. And so he built the lie, that his second son was a foundling, abandoned by monsters but loved by his godly family. Odin hoped Loki, in the face of a ruptured life, would cling to him, to cease his wanderings and return to his father’s complete control, like his so very loyal brother.

Loki instead became enraged. The lie that he’d lost had been replaced by an even greater lie he believed, and his fury on the matter again only made Odin want to laugh.

Why indeed was Loki not his favorite son? He’d always been so amusing.

The Odinsleep beckoned, and in relief and mirth, Odin gladly slid into it.

When he woke next, he found that his delightful second son had done all the work for him.

Once again, Odin held his son now two as they dangled off the broken bridge. Thor first, as always, who held Gungnir with Loki hanging off its end, his feet in the aether.

“I could have done it, Father! I could have done it! For you, for all of us!”

How easy it would be, to tell his son he understood, to soothe his twisted mind until he could be pulled to safety and then dealt with. But no, even now Loki was too unpredictable, unruly and difficult to control.

He had to be broken first.

“No, Loki.”

Disbelief, hurt, and a horrible finality flashed through his son’s eyes before his face settled, briefly, into a blank stare that Odin could read all too easily.

_Fine._

_What comes next is your doing._

Loki let go, despite his other half’s pleads, and fell from Asgard into realms unknown.

“No,” Odin said, _What comes next will be your taming._

Loki would become stronger on his own, or he would be destroyed. Regardless, Loki would come back, most likely by the hand of his brother who would not be able to do anything but search for him, for they were one.

And with Loki’s crimes behind him and word of his ‘true’ heritage come to light, Odin could break him to his will as he wished in the name of justice.

He pulled Thor back to the safety of the bridge and embraced him, his relief at his first son’s safety genuine. Burying his face in his father’s shoulder in sorrow, Thor did not see the smile that crept over his father’s features.

Loki would come back to him.

Odin needed only to wait.


	2. Father

“Loki Laufeyson.”

Thor winced, thinking it cruel to announce Loki’s heritage to the gathered court. Odin had told him of Loki’s origins in private, and in private was where he’d hoped they’d stay unless Loki himself chose otherwise. It only helped to increase Loki’s beliefs that he was not one of them. Not Thor’s brother.

But then Thor remembered Loki’s affable shrug at the sight of Phil Coulson’s blood on his scepter, and his concerns vanished under a wave of sorrow and anger.

Loki had brought this upon himself.

Once the surprised gasps and murmurs of the crowd died down, Odin continued, his gaze unwavering from Loki, bound and gagged before the throne.

“For your crimes against Asgard and her allies, you are to be imprisoned within the elder tree which lies on the edge of the realm until such a time that one of Asgard willingly sheds a tear for your plight. In the meantime, I can only hope you will come to learn to regret your actions.” Odin struck Gungnir upon the ground once, his judgment passed.

Thor sighed in relief. For all his anger, he did not want his brother to truly suffer. It was a harsh punishment, but not one without hope. One day his brother would be free again, once his madness withered.

Loki, forced to silence, was not so optimistic. The tree at the edge of the realm grew where no Aesir tread. He was being cast aside to be forgotten, to languish eternally bound and tethered.

Who would weep for him anyway? He who was hated by all?

Thor put his hand on his shoulder, both in a form of comfort and to pull him to his feet. Odin was descending to where his sons stood, for as he gave judgment, so would he carry it out.

“It is a merciful punishment, Loki,” Thor whispered, “There is wisdom of the ages within the trees, hopefully they can teach you humility during your imprisonment.”

Loki did not look at him, his eyes locked on Odin’s as he approached. Gungnir once more rang upon the floor as Odin stopped before Loki and nodded to Thor, who released his brother and stepped away.

Runes were drawn and chants whispered, and Loki shuddered and vanished, all that he was, flesh and spirit, locked within wood and root. The gag and the chains clattered to the floor.

Thor could not help staring at them as the throne room emptied.

 

With the Tesseract once more in Aesir possession, the rebuilding of the Bifrost became priority. Soon the new Observatory, a glittering bauble at the end of the bridge, was ready for use. With his father’s leave, Thor returned to Midgard, for there was much to be done and repairs to be made, both of the physical and political kind.

Envoys were sent to the realms to ensure all was well within Yggdrasil, save one. Jotunheim was a dead world, torn asunder and barren, even the ice on its fragile surface lacked the life it once held. It was a thorn that had too long plagued Odin’s side now free, and all the blame fell upon Loki. But what of the Casket of Ancient Winters? It had not been recovered. Did it fall with Loki? Did he have it still, or perhaps he used it to bargain for his life with the Chitauri? Odin would know, and with Thor too far away to sense anything amiss with his brother, he could get the answers he sought at last.

And perhaps finally bring Loki to heel.

It was easy enough to wind his will through the words of Loki’s binding spell he himself had fashioned. No magic or even thought of Loki’s could escape beyond the bark of his prison, but Odin could reach in and pull strands of thought and being through the weave of the spell’s net until Loki had to react.

The projection of his son materialized, flickering briefly. The boy hardly looked surprised by his temporary liberation, but it was who had summoned him that caught him off guard. Loki glanced around Odin’s chambers and then to Odin himself in open confusion. They were alone.

“My son,” Odin began, settling himself on the edge of his grand bed, “do you really think I’d let anyone whisk your mind away without my knowledge? Without my permission?”

“I am not your son,” Loki snapped, pacing so that his image blurred and swirled.

Odin sighed. Disappointingly predictable. This would not work, when Odin had fashioned the Jotun lie he had hoped to pull Loki closer, but it seemed the boy was determined to let his imagined adoption keep him severed. Well, to pull back the lie now would be disastrous. Odin would have to work with what he had.

“I did not sire you, but I found and chose you. I clothed and fed you, I raised you, and I loved you through it all, Loki. You are my son, regardless what you are or do.”

“Yet you were quick to use the name of Laufeyson against me when it suit you.”

“A lesson, more than that, a promise. I announce to all of your heritage and yet I continue to call you son. Asgard will accept this.”

Loki stopped pacing, his heavy gaze beyond the open balcony to the city below. “No, they will _tolerate_ it.”

“I do not appreciate your tone, Loki.”

“And I do not _appreciate_ your punishment and yet here we are.”

Odin leapt to his feet, advancing on Loki’s intangible image as though he mean to defy physical law and strike him anyway. “I have been merciful! I have been _kind!_ I could have had you flayed and left to rot in the barren wastes. I could have had your eyes ripped from their sockets to make Freya a new necklace and replaced them with burning coals!” His voice softened, though the blaze in his single eye continued to burn. “I could even now hand you to the Chitauri, as a gift. What do you say to that, my son?”

For the briefest of moments, something like fear lit in Loki’s green eyes, but it was quickly washed away by a confident smirk. “You would not. Such a ‘gift’ would make Asgard appear weak, as though you feared them. No, _Father_ , I am quite safe.”

Odin let Loki move away, his image flickering. When the All-Father spoke again, it was quiet and heavy, a mix of anger and sorrow. “You underestimate the gravity of your crimes.”

“I don’t think so, but please, do enlighten me.”

“You destroyed a world, an entire species.”

“Monsters, who will miss them?”

“You have slain countless mortals.”

“‘Mortals’ being the key word there, All-Father. You are hardly one to lecture me about the value of humans.”

Odin whirled on him again, voice raised. “You _killed_ your own brother!”

To that, Loki gave no immediate retort. By the time he regained himself and turned to speak, Odin had advanced on him, his face revealing curiosity rather than anger as he peered at his second son.

“How did that _feel_ , my son?”

Loki stepped away, the demanding need to know that shone in his father’s eye more off-putting than the question. But Loki would not be cowed and sneered.

“Satisfying.”

Odin sighed and turned away, more disappointed in his son’s answer than the spirit in which it was given. He’d hoped with Loki’s defeat and trial that he’d be more pliant in this conversation, but it appeared the boy was making use of his ability to speak. Odin would get nothing useful from him tonight.

“I try so hard for you, Loki,” Odin lamented, “and yet you continue to disappoint me.”

A sharp wave of his hand and Loki’s mental projection vanished, snapped back to his wood prison without Odin to hold him beyond his wards. It was a painful thing to have one’s spirit snatched about like that, unwilling, and Odin berated himself for his sudden vindictiveness against his own child.

Once Loki calmed down and saw reason, Odin wouldn’t have to hurt him anymore, and again could he be back in his father’s favored sight.

 

“Where is the Casket, Loki?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do not lie to me!”

“Why would I? I don’t have it, I didn’t have it when you cast me out-”

“Do not blame your own foolish choices on me!”

“Why don’t you ask Thor? It was in the Observatory when he severed it from the bridge. I’m sure he already fetched it for you like the good dog he is…”

Snarling, Odin threw out his arm, back of his palm meant for his Loki’s face, but his hand passed through his son’s image harmlessly. Loki still jerked away, unprepared.

The next evening and every evening after Odin had summoned his son’s image to him, plying him with questions not only of the Casket of Ancient Winters but of the worlds Loki had seen and the beings from whom he learned, but his brat of a child continued to be difficult. Loki’s confusion only heightened. Once, if Odin had asked it of him, Loki would have told him anything, _done_ anything, if only to please him. Many times had he gone forth in the realms seeking intelligence by his father’s whim, he’d even birthed a stallion for Odin’s sake!

This was an interrogation, one Odin wanted kept private, else he would have done so before Loki’s judgment had been passed. But Loki was no longer bound by Odin, for he was no longer a false-Odinson, so no longer would he surrender all his secrets.

When he displeased Odin, the All-Father would cut the spell that summoned him and Loki would snap back to his prison, writhing. It was damaging him, this constant yanking about between magical barriers without warning. Within the tree, Loki had no concept of time and knew not when his father would grab hold of his soul and _pull_. However, time did pass and, slowly, Loki began to force his will upon the tree. He could feel the power of the sun wax and wane upon the leaves and began to track the passing of days in this way. When the strength of the sun lessened, he knew his father would summon him soon.

When he was prepared, it didn’t hurt as much.

 

“Do you know, All-Father, why Thor truly insists upon staying in Midgard?”

Odin lay back against his pillows, his hands clasped on his chest in calm repose. His son was dawdling, trying to divert his attentions away from himself for a while, and Odin, amused, couldn’t help but bite.

“It is a primitive realm, but it has potential. Your brother would see that potential allowed to come to fruition.”

“I was no different,” Loki muttered bitterly to himself, then turned to his father, voice heavy with false regret. “There is a mortal, Father, and she has captured Thor’s attentions most absolutely. I believe he may have come to… _love_ her.”

Odin looked at his son. Loki was laying it on a bit thick tonight. He was a liar, but not one so foolish to think he could fool the All-Father, so there was probably a little truth to his words.

“The lives of mortals are fleeting, so too will be your brothers feelings, whatever they are.”

Loki scoffed. “You know Thor, when has he ever done anything on a partial level? You, Father, did not see how he looked at her, the light in his eyes as he spoke of her. And who knows better than you the methods to make that which is mortal immortal? What if he wishes to make her his bride?”

“He is a prince of Asgard and my heir, and will not be marrying a mortal and that is that. I do not worry on it, any defiance of Thor’s will easily be dealt with.”

“What? Banishment again? It’s getting old, All-Father. How about a change-up? I’ll take banishment and Thor can get locked away forever.”

“I have told you time and again, Loki, I will not allow you to languish forever. But I did not bring you out to discuss your brother.”

“Questions questions…haven’t you yet run out of them?”

A sigh escaped Odin as he tilted his head back against the pillows. He spoke softly. “I wanted to see my son.”

“Should have though of that before you sealed me away!” Loki snapped. “I have _nothing_ to say to you.”

Life leapt into Odin as he rose to his feet, his fury matching his own majesty. “Night after night I deal with your foul attitude, I grow tired. You _will_ respect me!”

“Or else what? You’ll feed me to the Chitauri? No, All-Father, I fear no threats of yours. As for my respect…” his voice dropped and he looked away, “you have always had it. You always will, as well as my loathing.”

Odin cut the spell and Loki was gone.

 

The next night, Odin pulled Loki’s mind from the far reaches of space where it had been flung and Loki’s projection appeared screaming.

He fell to his hands and knees, his image distorted and flickering. It took almost a full minute for the warped visage to solidify into something recognizable. Panting, Loki’s voice was stretched and cracked, coming from far away as he sobbed.

“ _Why?_ ”

“A taste, my son, of what Thanos has to offer should you continue to defy me. I’m trying to help you.”

“You… you _let_ him take me?”

“I would never let one such as him anywhere near Asgard, you know this. I sent you to him.”

Betrayal, deep and green and hurt, lay in his son’s eyes and Odin felt a twinge of regret.

“How long?” Loki whispered.

“Mere minutes, though I assume Thanos made the best of them. Please cooperate, Loki, I don’t wish to make it a permanent arrangement.”

“You _can’t_ , they’ll kill me.” It was a plead as much as a statement. Odin had answered Loki’s antagonizing with proof he was willing to go through with his threat, at least it part. But a part was too much for Loki, so he sought to bargain with reason and the hope of a father’s love, knowing it was doomed to fail even as he spoke.

This time, Odin did laugh. “They cannot kill you any more than Thor’s mortal friends could have, had they truly tried. No, though the Chitauri and Thanos could tear you apart until you were atoms drifting through Yggdrasil’s leaves, you would live. You will _always_ return to what you are.”

Loki stared at Odin in confusion, but tucked that bit of knowledge away for later. He had one last card to play.

“Thor won’t let you.”

“Thor? Oh Loki,” Odin knelt before his son, one hand raised as though he wished to touch him, comfort him, but he could not and let it drop, “for all his love of you, even your brother has his limits. You threatened the world he has sworn to protect, slain and enslaved those he calls friends, and attempted to kill him more than once. Every time he extended to you his hand in redemption, in love, you spat in it. No, my son, Thor is done with you, he has seen the truth at last. Would he have brought you so chained and shamed to me otherwise? Oh, he may speak against me at first, as your brother, but in the end, he will not miss you.”

“No.” Loki’s hands tightened into fists, his eyes wide and lost. “What of Mother? Every night I have been brought to these chambers and I have yet to see her.”

“Your actions have disturbed her deeply. She does not wish to see you.”

And oh, how familiar did _that_ sound, Loki thought.

“I will hear her say this.”

“No. I told you that you underestimate the weight of your crimes. See the proof of it now. All who loved you have turned away. It is I who still truly holds hope for you, who wishes your return. Help me and I will help you. Kneel to me, and no more will you suffer.”

“Kneel,” Loki hissed, his face twisting as he lifted his head to gaze into Odin’s single eye.

“Fight me, refuse my help, and I will have no choice but to send you away to those you wronged. Not just your mind, Loki, but the whole of you, until you learn your place.”

“You knew.”

The accusation caught Odin off guard. “What?”

“You knew where I was the whole time I was cast out. You left me, let me fall right into their hands! You knew of my plans for Midgard, knew I communicated with the Chitauri.”

“You were lost to us, Loki…”

“Don’t lie to me!” Loki shrieked, leaping to his feet, “You said so yourself, All-Father, no one could whisk me away without your saying so, and as soon as I was back on Midgard and within Yggdrasil’s influence you would know of my communes with the Chitauri. _You knew_ , and you did nothing! How simple it could have been, to cut me off, to send my spirit awry that those dear mortal lives be spared! You did nothing!”

Odin stood, facing his son. “I had hoped you would cease your foolish plans on your own, that you would realize that you were in over your head and come home! I gave you a choice!”

“A _choice?_ You demand that Thor and I make our choices as men, as future kings, and yet if any so-called choice defies your will we are punished! What choice do we have in the end _but_ to kneel to you forever?”

“None.”

Loki stepped back, shocked by Odin’s blunt answer.

“I had hoped the Chitauri would break you that you would return to me humbled and submissive, instead they dressed you up like a warlord and sent you to do their work. Now here you are, unruly as ever and I have grown _tired_ of this accursed _game_. You are my son, and you will submit. Kneel to me, Loki, swear to obey me and we will end this. Do not, and I will hand you to Thanos myself, with a _ribbon_ on your head!”

“I will not kneel.” Loki whispered, backing away.

“And when Thanos and the Chitauri and all else you’ve offended are done and you lie broken, I will gather you in my arms, because I love you, and you will _beg_ me to allow you to kneel before me.”

Madness, Loki thought, his father spoke in madness. “What of Thor?”

“Thor? He is loyal to me, Loki, he has proven this time and again. But I will not hesitate to give him the same fate should he follow your path!”

Loki ran. While his projection was a conjuring of his mind, sheer habit often had him react in manners reflecting the physical, so Loki sprint to the open balcony and leapt from it, his image vanishing as his mind slipped between dimensions that he may travel between the realms.

Odin shrugged and summoned Gungnir to him. While Loki’s method of travel was swift, it was not so fast that Odin need be in any hurry. No doubt he was going to Midgard, to Thor. Then what? Loki was a talented liar, it was his art but also his curse. Who would believe anything he said?

Gungnir in hand, Odin left Gladsheim. It was time to pay his wayward son a visit in person.

 

Being rich had many advantages. The ability to afford a laboratory stocked with the latest and (mostly custom built) ingenious inventions for the purpose of building, maintaining, and upgrading a line of armored suits for one’s superhero pastimes was not usually on the top ten for most, but it was on Tony Stark’s.

Also the fact that when one’s tower was destroyed by psychotic gods and invading extraterrestrials, one could get repairs in relatively quick. It helped Tony could do many of those repairs himself.

Which was why Tony was none too happy to see said psychotic god reappearing in said recently reconstructed Stark Tower. No puff of smoke, no lightning, no mystical fireballs of mysticalness, Loki just _appeared_.

“You’ve got to be shitting me…” Tony muttered, one would think that the villain‘s own people could hang on to him a bit better. “Jarvis, put out the heads up on our _guest_.”

Loki hadn’t seen him yet, he was looking around the room as though unsure where he was, and Tony took the opportunity to move over to the (newly remade and restocked, damnit) bar. It was kind of sad that Tony found himself reaching for the Mark VII tracking bracelets out of muscle memory already. Loki whirled and saw him, eyes wide and over-bright. He looked a bit rough, and Tony wasn’t at all sorry to see that.

“Well, look who it is,” Tony said a little too loudly as he tried to cover the sudden rise of adrenaline. All’s well that ends well and all, but a guy could never get used to getting _thrown_ out a window. “Come back for another show? We’re not quite ready yet but we can certainly do an encore of kicking your ass, just for you.” Tony poured himself a drink while the god continued to stare, “In fact I think that… yep, that’s the exact spot the Hulk smashed you through the floor.” He took a long drink and sighed, wistfully, “Ah, nostalgia.”

Loki snarled, waved his hand in a manner that said _there’s no time for your gibberish now_ , and advanced towards Stark slowly. Which was insane; there was always time for gibberish.

Tony was about to call out to Jarvis for his damned suit already (they needed an Avengers oh-God-I’m-about-to-die panic button or something) when Loki flickered. It reminded Tony of an analogue television with bad reception, bits and pieces of the picture scrambled out. He lifted his empty glass and tossed it at Loki. It went right through him, bounced on the floor behind him once and shattered. Loki didn’t even flinch.

“Okay,” Tony said, “I’m hoping this means you can’t do anything.”

“Mortal,” Loki hissed, still approaching, “you will bring me my brother.”

Oh, well, back to the brother thing all of a sudden. “Um, no.”

“What?”

“Look, I’d love to bring Thor up here so he could pound your face in and get you the hell off my planet, but he’s not here. I don’t know where he is, probably off doing godly things.”

“Summon him, then. You have the means to do so.”

“I could, but I’m feeling spiteful.”

Loki’s face twisted in fury and he rose to his full height. Tony again tensed for action. Just because the insane demigod was incorporeal didn’t mean he still couldn’t find a way to chuck Tony out the window again if he really wanted to. Instead the god took a deep breath and seemed to deflate.

“Please,” he forced out, lips awkward on the word.

Tony blinked in surprise. “Whoa, hey, the magic word. Too bad it’s not so ‘magical’ when spoken by a ‘magician.’” He even did the damn finger quotes. “I’m still gonna have to say no.”

 

Odin approached the elder tree as he would an old friend. In a sense, that’s what it was, for they had been young together, long ago. It was why he had entrusted his son to it. He regretted the circumstances that led here, both for Loki and the tree, but things could not be left as they were. The All-Father placed his hand on the gnarled bark, felt the age of the tree and the life of his son within. He also felt Loki’s own workings, weaving his will within the trees own, slowly gaining control and awareness.

Clever, but there were downsides to such actions as well. Odin would make use of them now.

He stepped back a spear’s length from the tree, Gungnir’s length, and lowered the weapon’s point to it.

 

“They’ll kill me.”

“Good!” Tony snapped, all humor gone. Coulson was _dead_ because of this guy, Clint would probably never get over what Loki had done to him, had forced him to do, and these were just the people Tony _knew_. “Even if, for some strange reason, I wanted to help you, you’re Asgard’s prisoner. They want to execute you that’s their prerogative. But I don’t want to help you, you son of a bitch, I want to _watch_.”

Tony was shocked to hear himself, knowing he would later regret it, but in this moment he meant every word.

“You…” Loki started, taking a step forward, when he stopped, whipping his head around and gazing away at something only he could see. He swallowed and returned his attention to Tony, speaking swiftly and as though the previous conversation had not occurred.

“I have no time. Tell my brother that something is amiss in Asgard and the All-Father is taken by some madness. I can’t-- _AAH!_ ”

Streaks of fiery light shot through Loki’s image and exploded outward, leaving nothing but embers raining down throughout the room to disappear on the floor.

 

Weary, his limbs laden with regret, Odin set the butt of Gungnir by his feet again, magical energies discharged. The tree, old and proud, stood mangled and burnt, over half its trunk blasted away, the edges still glowing. The smell of burning wood was overpowering. Yet the tree would live, and by extension so would Loki.

Or was it the other way around?

Again Odin lay his hand upon the bark, warm under his palm. “I am sorry, my son, but you forced my hand.”

Odin walked away and returned to Gladsheim, leaving the tree to smolder behind him. When he next summoned Loki, he was certain the boy would be far more agreeable.

 

Tony Stark stared at the empty spot across his bar counter where Loki had stood, his arms still raised to protect his face.

Okay, Thor’s crazy brother had just _exploded_ in his home.

He let out a long breath, letting the aftereffects of adrenalin run its course. It was okay, Loki was gone, his place was undamaged, and he was not plummeting to his death. All good. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and sank down into the nearest chair, face in his hand.

“Jarvis, see if you can track down Thor, would you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it started with vaguely evil Odin, then I got straight-up evil Odin, and it fell right into batshit insane Odin. Which is sad, since I like Odin. Oh well. I've got a rough plot now, cliche` and predictable as it is, but the story's still just kinda dumping all over the screen. And Tony's hard to write.
> 
> Please tell me if I start going over the top. XD

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I have only a very vague idea of where this is going in that it _is_ going to be an Avengers story overall. Other than that...it's writing itself. I may have to adjust the summary as the story continues. Hopefully it won't get too out of hand.


End file.
